


all eyes on you

by Joiedevivre



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, a political AU, dates and ages have been altered for effect, no actual politics tho? cmon you didn't come for that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 10:33:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10829487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joiedevivre/pseuds/Joiedevivre
Summary: Jack Morrison, weary of war, turns his sights to the political sphere as the Omnic War draws to its close. He just wants to serve his country. But he is not prepared when the ghosts of war follow him into his new life. Gabriel Reyes, his campaign manager, may be the only thing that can get him through the gritty business of politicking.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was originally written as a long form tweet thread on Twitter. As such, it differs from my usual style, the writing is a little less fluid and the approach more distant than I usually place myself in writing characters. It originally contained many typos, abbreviations, and lacked a lot of filler content in the world building. I love it still, and I hope to clean it up further as I go.

Vice President Morrison didn't expect to run for office. He had no prior political experience, after all. His running mate selected him based on his across the map popularity and widely publicized history of distinguished military service. Prior to entering politics, Jack Morrison had a squeaky clean record, no trace of scandal. He was handsome, strong, and patriotic. What more could anyone ask? 

Jack himself had found politics a hard sell. The Omnic Crisis was not quite over, and he wondered if he could make the right decisions moving from military command, relatively straightforward, to a much more complex position. He knew he had the diplomatic skills. It was his own judgement he questioned, whether he was qualified to make policy decisions, a far cry from combat knowledge. But when he thought about it, he had to consider the potential and how many more people he could help in a different position, and if he was being totally honest with himself, he was tired of the fighting. He was burnt out on war, struggling. He was ready to step away. His sense of duty wouldn't allow him to retire (especially at a still relatively young age) but he needed a change. 

His running mate, the future president, knew he would need someone to help him manage the transition. Enter his campaign manager. Gabriel Reyes was a savvy, experienced political player who was used to watching from behind the scenes. He'd seen everything. Some said he'd made a habit of backing winners and that was how he'd made it to work on a presidential campaign. Gabe knew better. He didn't back winner - he made winners. His insider knowledge, his uncanny read on public opinion, his congenial extroversion, all made him an essential asset. Now he'd been hired by a man he was sure would be president, backed him and guided him through almost a year of campgaigning, only to find himself foisted on the vice presidential pick, expected to hold his newbie running mate's hand instead. It was a blow to his pride, but with so much already done, there was no question of backing out. He wanted to be part of this process. So he agreed to meet the man and see how things will work. After all, on paper, John 'Jack' Morrison looked like an election slam dunk.  


And actually, that was what made him suspicious.  


-  


Nobody was this good. Nobody was this clean. Even on first impression, Gabe was perturbed that he can find no obvious flaws. 

On the second meeting, Gabe tried to go deep. He dug at Jack's past and raked him over his military history. He needed to know what, if anything, could come back to bite them all in the ass later. Supposedly Jack was vetted before he was asked to run with them. But Gabe wasn't taking any chances. He did his own research and grilled Jack personally. 

Jack handled it with... a little difficultly. He understood there's a lot at stake, and he did his best to cooperate. But he hated the feeling he was getting that he was being tested to see if he could be used. He didn't want to be used. He wanted to do good for his country. Around the end of hour two when Reyes was pressing him insistently about his command decisions in a mission that could have gone better, he broke a little, let his hand slam on the table harder than he meant to. He wasn't not happy. Men had died on that mission. He wouldn't be questioned by paper pushers like this, men who had no idea what it took to survive in combat when you were staring down the barrel of a gun at the relentless face of an omnic. 

Gabe looked at him appraisingly and found he was more pleased than displeased. That temper would need a close eye but it was the first sign Gabe had seen that this man had a fire in him, a fighting spirit. More than just a soldier following orders. He would need that energy to draw a crowd. 

Gabe spent hours going over Jack's prior appearances in the press. There weren't many. Jack was high in the command structure but not so high that anyone had yet cared about his political alignment, which would work in their favor. Jack's notoriety so far came from being the USA's most successful super soldier. More figurehead than media presence. They would have a chance to create his personality for the public, and they would build around his clean Midwestern image. 

Jack passed Gabe's personal evaluation but he was still wary. He didn't get so far in his occupation without a healthy dose of skepticism. 

Jack Morrison was announced as the vice presidential pick with a lot of fanfare. The media went wild. Predictably, a portion of the population immediately criticized the campaign for picking a soldier, a "warmonger." But louder were the voices from the other side. America was nearing the weary end of years of war. Soldiers were still heroes to general public, they hadn't forgotten who was keeping them safe. Gabe was disgruntled to find that Jack _shines_ in the spotlight. He shoved the feeling away, thinking it wrongheaded. He should have been glad. Morrison surpassing his expectations was a good thing. He didn't know why it bothered him, and he didn't have time for self reflection. He buried himself in the flurry of activity, uneasily. His gut instincts were rarely wrong. 

They were one week out from election day, D-day, they joked, decision day, when the public would head to the polls, when it happened. 

They were in their Washington office late in the afternoon, going over the next day's itinerary. The schedule was packed and all hands on deck. In the midst of discussing travel from one venue to the hotel, a thundering bang sounded in the hall, a clattering thump followed by shattering glass. The noise was close by, distracting, and most people looked out the door into the hall. Gabe did not have this option. One moment he was reaching for his coffee, the next was a flurry of sound and a hard body impacting his. 

His head cleared quickly. He was on the floor and the vice president (when did he begin thinking of him in future tense, with a title yet unearned?) was covering him with chest and arms. He automatically began to push the other man off of him, confused bordering on angry. But when he moved, turning his head, he saw it. Wide eyed with fear, whites of his eyes showing, Morrison was rigid, tensed up, and didn't let him go. There was a brief struggle between the two. Gabe stopped moving, instead clutching at Morrison's biceps, clamping his grip down hard, until he began to relax. It took several seconds, and when both men sat up, Gabe could feel Jack shaking next to him. He knew he needed to act quickly. 

"What the fuck happened!?" he roared over the table. The staffers scrambled. Gabe was always in charge but he rarely had to raise his voice to people to get them in order. An intern volunteered to investigate the disturbance. The others began collecting scattered papers. 

"Clear this fucking room and get me another coffee," Gabe snapped, and waited until they moved. He looked back at Jack, whose gaze was rabbiting around the room at windows and doors. He recognized the look. Checking for threats. He knelt in front of him, waved a hand in front of his face, and snapped his fingers. 

"Morrison. On your feet." Jack settled on him immediately. He responded instinctively to the order, and it wa only when he was on his feet that he began to come back to himself. He found Gabe's eyes and he still looked terrified, not of what happened, but of his own reaction. Gabe could read him easily. He's a professional at handling crises. It was a feature of the job, and he knew he needed to manage this, _now_ He put a hand on Jack's shoulder and leaned in to his ear to murmur quietly. 

"Stay with me, I'll get you out of here." 

Jack nodded immediately, and Gabe saw his hand twitch like he wanted to reach for him but didn't, aborting the move before it began. 

Gabe shouted a series of orders at the staff and began ushering Jack out. Jack followed, unquestioning, like a baby duck, tailing Gabe down the hall, out of the building, into the car. 

When they were alone in the back seat of the limo and the air around them was cool and dark, Gabe turned a stare on his companion.

"Some things you may have neglected to mention, Morrison?" It came out colder than he wanted it to, but he was angry - angry enough not to hide it. This, this was the sound of the hammer falling. The chip in the glass, the flaw in the diamond. 

Jack cleared his throat. He reacheed for the mini fridge, growling and making a fist when his shaking hand couldn't manage the door. "Water. Please," he asked, and Gabe could see how much it cost him to request assistance with such a simple thing. He leaned forward and retrieved the water, handing it to him wordlessly. Jack obliterated the cap in his grasp, tipped the bottle up and drank half in one go. 

"Fuck," he said, mostly to himself. 

"Has this happened before?" Gabe asked. He needed details, now. He could probably put a lid on it so far. Their staff is loyal. But if it happened again, and in front of a bigger audience? It would spell disaster for the whole campaign. Everything. Gone. In one moment. 

"This?" Jack looked at his hands, mouth twisting, more a grimace than a smile. "No. Not this." 

"Something?" Gabe asked sharply. 

"Nothing - in front of others."

"Details." 

Jack closed his eyes. "I don't sleep," he said. "Sometimes I have to keep all the lights off in the daytime."

"No other episodes?" Gabe pressed. 

"No. This is the first." 

Gabe sighed, long and deep, leaned back in his seat. He'd already gone into management mode, counting appearances until election day. Unsurprisingly, there were a good number. "We may have to move some things," he said distantly. 

"No," Jack said right away. "We can't. Not this week. Not this late. They'll -"

"They'll know something is wrong?" Gabe tilted his head. "Better than the alternative, don't you think? At least we can shuffle a schedule for plausible deniability. That's not going to be an option if you-" he trailed off, gesturing with one hand vaguely.

Jack pulled his chin up, jaw set. "I can manage it," he said, voice hard. "We don't have a choice."

They did have a choice, Gabe wanted to say, and you don't really outrank me here. Gabe was the political veteran, he called the shots. If he decided the risk is too big, he would make the call. But he gave Jack an appraising, all-over look first. The man looked tired - exhausted - and pale, but his hands weren't shaking.

"Where did you think you were?" he asked, almost casually.

"Nowhere. Anywhere," Jack looked out the tinted window. "Turkey."

Gabe remembered the file. Jack lost a lot of men in Turkey, including a second in command. "It's too much of a risk," he announced. 

Jack's laugh in response was humorless. "You can't hide me for a whole week, especially not this week. When do I get to come out and play then? You just gonna try to keep me away from loud noises?" He laughed again, knowing he was right. "Good luck with that."

They both thought of the huge crowds and enormous stages booked for the coming week. 

"You can't do anything," Jack said. "And you can't tell him." They both knew who Jack meant. Petras, his running mate. Gabe narrowed his eyes, angry he'd been put in this position, furious for lack of options. 

"Un-fuckin-believe-able," he growled. "Fine, Morrison. But there's a lot riding on you and you better not fuck it up, understand?"

"Reyes, I don't want to fuck this up anymore than you want me to, all right? I have a pretty vested interest, you know," Jack retorted. 

It was a relief to Gabe. Seemed Morrison is back to his stiff-necked, back-boned self. 

"How can I help?" he found himself asking. 

Jack finished the rest of his water. "Cover my ass," was the only thing he can come up with. "I don't think I'll need it- but if I do..."

Gabe snorted. "I've already got my eye on you 24/7. If you fuck up I'll be the first one to know."

"You don't trust me at all, do you? You never have."

"I don't trust anyone," Gabe replied. "This is a nasty business. It's how you win. You need to learn that."

Jack shook his head. How could he explain that where he came from, you trusted those around you, or you died? "I trust you," he said.

Fucking great. Gabe groaned internally. He was used to handling pressure, but the vulnerable glint in Morrison's eye, the outright statement of need - it was a different kind of pressure than he was used to. He wasn't sure how to react. He settled for a half smile, genuine as he could make it. "One week," he said, trying for reassurance. "Let's just get through the election." 

Jack took a deep breath. "It's never happened before. I was just startled. I'll be fine." 

"Good. Now get out. We're at the hotel."

Gabe followed Jack into the hotel, watched the way he kept his head down, uncharacteristic of him, and really, really hoped he was right.


	2. Chapter 2

The week that followed Jack's episode in D.C. was one of the longest in his life, and despite his best efforts, one of the most difficult as well. It was as if something about the event had shattered his nerves - though he was able to mask many of the outside signs, he was struggling. He tolerated his campaign manager hovering as best he could. After all, he'd asked for it, and he knew it was needed. But it was hard to pretend he had recovered, that he was getting back to normal, when he felt those sharp eyes on his back. Gabe was at his side constantly - no matter where he turned, there was his imposing figure, neat lines cut on his perfectly pressed suit. After the first day, it started to become comforting. If Jack began to feel overwhelmed, when the anxiety began creeping over him, he'd let his gaze slide to his left or right and find Gabe working, usually on his phone or bent over a folder of work. More often than not, as soon as he'd shifted his attention to him, however subtly, Gabe would raise his eyes to meet Jack's, like he'd had one eye on him along; he'd just been waiting for Jack to crack. 

Jack was determined not to give in. He kept his head up. He kept a brilliant smile for the cameras. And if his internal monologue sounded like one long scream in his head, who was to know but him? 

It was only day two when the situation worsened. They were backstage when it happened, Jack pacing in the wings before his appearance on stage. Rehearsing key portions of his speech, whispering under his breath, his throat suddenly felt tight and his chest began to pound. His vision swam before him as he stopped midstep. He tried to swallow, found his jaw locked. 

_No. Not here. Not now. I can't._

His need to suppress the feelings only worsened them, panic building exponentially with each passing second. 

_Reyes. Have to tell him. Have to get out of here. Can't leave now. Nowhere to go. Can't be seen._

The flurry of thoughts bombarded him.

The scream in his head grew louder and louder, pushing its way to the forefront insistently, a shrill and hollow screech that scraped at his nerves and blinded his vision. 

_You have to let it out, Jack thought. Let it out, it's too loud, it will kill you!_

He was a half second from putting his hands over his ears, going weak in his knees when a hand touched his elbow, and he instinctively threw his arm back, lashing out defensively. He was surprised when he felt no impact after. 

Reyes had very good reflexes, and he thanked god for them in that moment, as he leaned back to avoid the blow. He pivoted, moving away from Jack's arm, half circled to approach Jack from the front. "Morrison," he said insistently, as low as he could.

"Jack, look at me," he demanded when his first words didn't sink in. Jack turned then, seeming to recognize him, though distantly. 

"Jack," he said again, one hand grasping Jack's shoulder while the other touched his chin to turn his focus on him. "See me?" 

Jack nodded. "See you," he echoed. Gabe watched as he took a long breath. 

"What do I do?" Gabe asked urgently. "What do you need?"

"Keep talking," Jack's hands came up, one each to lock on Gabe's wrists. "Tell me I'm here." 

"Of course you're fucking here," Gabe said. "You're backstage about to walk out there and talk to ten thousand fucking people and tell them how great you are. Where the fuck else wold you be?"

"Your bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired," Jack managed, breaths coming a little easier.

"I'm not your mama," Gabe retorted. "I'm the guy who's getting you elected."

Jack laughed a little, weakly, feeling like the air was coming back in his chest. "Reyes, have I told you yet that I hate you? Goddamn I hate you. I've hated you since the minute I first met you and you asked me all those bullshit questions about my record."

He sucked in a lungful of air. "Like I hadn't answered them all before. Like you were so much better than everyone else who already asked. Like you fucking set the moon."

To his surprise, Reyes smiled then, a wide, toothy, genuine smile. "I know, sunshine. I have that effect on most people." He gave Jack a pat on the cheek, checking his eyes for lingering signs of distress. A roar of applause echoed nearby, Jack's name called out over the loudspeakers as he was announced. "Time's up. Now go knock 'em dead." 

Jack took a three deep breaths, lifted his head, and walked out on the stage. 

Gabe watched him go, smile lingering as he saw Jack slip into his public persona with ease. He was impressed, despite his better judgment. He had learned a lot about the man in the past few months, but it always struck him how deliberately Jack Morrison approached his obligations. On the verge of a panic attack only seconds prior, he stood now on an enormous stage, lights pouring down on him while he beamed at his audience. 

_Five more days,_ Gabe thought, bringing up his phone to check the latest poll numbers once again, then check live social media reactions to the speech Morrison was giving. 

' _Morrison looks like a living ken doll'_

_'Tell me again why Morrison is VP pick and not the real deal?'_

_'More Morrison!!'_

Satisfied, Gabe pocketed his mobile; to watch Jack live in his element, with his 10,000 watt smile, wasn't a performance to be missed. 

\- 

Day three. Dawn. 

Gabe was waiting outside Jack's hotel room with a coffee (black, two sugars) when he opened the door. 

"What the fuck is that suit?" The first words out of his mouth. Jack looked bemused. His suit was blue, but too blue. Brighter than navy. 

"It's blue," he replied. 

"Not an adult blue," Gabe came back at him. "Adults wear navy. Sometimes marine. Not... this."

"Take it up with my tailor," Jack said dismissively. "He said it'll make me appear modern. Appeal to the youth or something."

Jack didn't need help appealing to the youth, Gabe thought. Even in his early forties, he had a boyish charm and ageless grace that draw people in.

Jack eyed the coffee in his hands hungrily. "Is that for me?" he asked. It wasn't, but Gabe found himself handing it over anyway. 

"Sure," he said, wondering what had come over him. 

Jack took a sip and practically moaned. "God, this is perfect," he said. "Just how I take it."

For a moment Gabe couldn't process words as his brain stuttered out at the absurdity of the noise Morrison had just made. Any other man, he'd suspect it was deliberate. But this was Jack Morrison. 

"Happy to help," he said when he could speak again. "Now let's talk about your itinerary." 

This wasn't Gabe's job. He knew it.

Jack had a PA, a quite capable one. But after Monday night's events, Gabe had dismissed him, feeling he'd rather keep tabs on Jack himself.

Gabe went down the list of appearances for the day quickly. No major public speaking, though they would be seen at some smaller gatherings. 

As they exited the building, Gabe looked up from his tablet to see Jack tipping back his cup to swallow the last of Gabe's coffee. He watched Jack's Adam's apple bob, mesmerized, and almost missed Jack speaking. 

"Schmoozing, meet & greet, cozy up for some cash?" he asked.

"That's basically it," Gabe said a moment later as they were ushered into their car by the Secret Service. "Nice and easy. No pressure."

Jack raised an eyebrow playfully. "You saying I'm a natural swindler?"

It was the first time Gabe had been on the receiving end of Jack's charm, and with that smile turned on him, that piercing blue gaze, Gabe suddenly understood how he made the crowds weak in the knees. He cleared his throat and pointedly looked away from Morrison's long legs in those bright blue suit pants, stretched out across the limo in front of him. 

"Did you sleep last night?" he asked distractedly as he tried bury himself in work. 

"Ahhh..." Jack said noncommittally. 

Gabe frowned. "There's a lot riding on you," he reminded Jack yet again. 

He heard, didn't see, Jack's head fall back with a thump. 

"Don't you think if I could sleep, I would? I've got concealer under my eyes for godsake. It feels ridiculous."

It did hide the dark circles, though. Gabe didn't even notice. Possibly because he was now studiously avoiding eye contact. 

"Mmmm," he said. He'd have to think on that. The week wasn't half over and Jack needed to be sharp for tomorrow's town hall especially.

-

Evening found Gabe beside Morrison as they entered yet another hotel. The day had gone well, but Gabe could see on the other man's face that he was done. His eyes were red and weary and he was distracted, responding late to every inquiry Gabe lobbed at him about the fundraising event.

Now seemed as good a time as any, he thought as they turned down a hall. He held up a hand, and the Secret Service agents following them stopped. He walked Jack forward a couple more feet and gently herded him into the wall behind a large decorative ficus. 

Jack was startled. "What-?" he asked, his bloodshot eyes focusing on his face. "Reyes?"

"You need to sleep tonight," Gabe said bluntly. "I have something to help." He realized the mistake he'd made when he felt the warmth coming off Morrison's chest, seeping through the thin dress shirt & undershirt. He lifted his hand away steadily even though he wanted to snatch it back. Jack was watching him in confusion, trust emanating from his expression. 

_Do your job, Reyes,_ Gabe reminded himself before he could fall into the trap of that strong, sleepy face. 

He pulled the bottle from his pocket and pushed it into Jack's hand, a glance around showing they were still alone, fighting the need to pull his hand away when their fingers brushed. 

"The fuck is this?" Jack asked, hardening into blunt edges, that soft trust gone in an instant. For Gabe, it was a relief. He could handle Jack at his brusque, soldierly self. This new version of him he'd seen today, genuine & lacking guile, is too new to address. 

"Don't get twisted. It's just a sleep aid," Gabe said, wanting to roll his eyes but refraining. 

Jack bristled with indignation. "I'm not taking this shit," he said, suddenly seeming bigger in his displeasure. Gabe took a step back, close proximity no longer needed. 

"You need to sleep. You have a town hall tomorrow, asshole. They're gonna grill you. You need to be rested."

"Yeah, and this shit isn't going to help!" Jack pushed the bottle back at him, one big hand shoving it against his chest. "You think I haven't tried all that before? It's not that simple. I take that, all it'll do is trap me in me nigh-" he stopped short.

Gabe grabbed at the bottle if only to get Jack's hand off his chest. He wished he had a better solution, but he doesn't.

"What will you do then?" he demanded. "You know-" 

"I know! There's a lot at stake. Just - fuck off, Reyes. This isn't what I need you for." Jack stared at him a moment before striding away angrily. 

Gabe watched him go, uncertain what he was feeling - regret, guilt, or failure.


End file.
